


The Crown

by Beansisuptonogood



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angry boi Dream, Angst and Feels, Anyways, Dragons, Dream has attachment issues, Dream is a simp for george, Dream questions his sexuality, Eventual Romance, First Love, Fluff and Angst, George and Wilbur are brothers, George and Will doesn't want to be the next king, George is literally not found he got kidnapped, Hermaphrodite Fundy, Knight! Dream, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Multiple Pov, Prince! George, Prince! Wilbur/Will, Protective Dream, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, So Much Friendship, So..George..was taken? AIOJWER I'll leave, Strong Female Representation, Suicidal! Wilbur, Technoblade is not a pig he is a dragon, Wilbur is mentally and physically ill, elemental powers, these tags are messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27768868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beansisuptonogood/pseuds/Beansisuptonogood
Summary: The Crown follows the story of George, a 13 year-old boy kidnapped as a child from the palace where he grew up. The tragedy reinvents the course of his life where instead of being crowned prince, he proceeds to live in a outlandish world where humans co-exist with dragons. Unaware he left ineradicable scars on the knight and wearer of the white, porcelain mask.George could sense the chaos of emotion behind Dream's obstructing yet smiling mask, one of the maimed brave that never gave up looking for him. Now that they’ve found each other, it almost seemed bizzare as both of them could only stare in suffocating silence.“You're here”Dream's whispers as the edge of his voice cracks.“I'm here,”George promises.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade/Floris | Fundy/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap/Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream/Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Everyone, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, GeorgeNotFound & Wilbur Soot, Quackity and Jschlatt
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	1. Couldn't Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> If you happened to stumble upon this fic with barely any views or Kudos. Well, this is awkward-
> 
> Hullo! My name is Beans and this is my first DreamnotFound fanfic. It's been in my drafts for a while and I did a LOT of world-building during my free time. This fic was one of my biggest projects(I think?) and it has a lot of new aspects that are original (from what I know) like hermaphrodite Fundy and some unexpected brotherhoods (*cough* George and Techno). But please be aware these are based on FICTIONAL characters from the dream SMP. I did not include Tommy and Tubbo as main characters because they have mentioned fanfics make them uncomfortable.
> 
> But I think I may insert them at some point. (ONLY FOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT)
> 
> Please be nice and do not plagiarize my works, I surrender my entirety to this art form as I do it as some sort of coping mechanism in real life because I study medicine and I NEED a sense of relief and enjoyment sometimes. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading as much as I've had fun writing. 
> 
> Love, Beans.
> 
> WARNING: DO NOT REPEAT THE SAME MISTAKE AND SHARE THIS TO THE CCS. ENJOY THIS WITH RESPECT TO NOT ONLY ME, BUT TO THEM.

* * *

_“Mother!”_ A little boy, wearing a tiny woolen cloak, rushed around the castle at midnight. Awakening the servants, and alarming the royal guards seated in their stations, almost drifting off to sleep before they snap their heads awake. They all followed the tiny voice until they hit a wall, and found nothing but his leather shoes. 

“Prince George!” One of the maids recognized, she pushes past the cards and clutches the shoe. “The young prince was looking for her majesty!”

_“What?”_ Another maid exclaimed alarmingly, they all looked each other with worry. The queen was not going to be back until the next few weeks. 

Murmurs about how the queen was supposed to be gone to fix the issues between their kingdom and the north, Manburg. Leaving two of their children behind, George and Will. Prince George, the boy currently looking for his mother was the eldest among the two with a gap of one year. He was the first mistake of the royal family, his brother being the second. Yes, their parents wanted daughters. But despite being a disappointment, they acted affectionately towards their children, loving them with a heart filled with endearment. 

Suddenly a blast was heard in the entrance of the palace, the roof and parts of the windows were blown to bits by some sort of sorcery, or was it—an abomination. A loud, stomach-churning sound from some type of creature was heard and caused panic through left and right. Winged beasts flew over the skies and men wearing peculiar clothing—barbaric warriors from a foreign land, riding dragons, George recognized them when he used to study in the library for his sorcery lessons. He froze as a man after who finished slashing a servant, stared at him with such intense eyes. His weapon was strange and unfamiliar to George, but he is fascinated by how beautiful it looked despite its purpose. 

He lurches forward, passing a few guards that were trying to protect the prince, other servants run for their lives. Just when the man was about to grab the boy, a small hand comes between them and throws a metal shield on his head, effectively knocking him out.

“Sir Dream!” The boy yelps, the youngest guard turned to him politely, his usual white mask covering the entirety of his face. Nonetheless, George could usually tell what emotions he’s feeling. Right now, he thinks Dream must be smiling proudly at himself.

“Just Dream, for now, I won’t be a guard till I’m sixteen.” He grabs for his friend’s hand, clutching it tightly. Before he could say anything, a gag suddenly held the Prince silent, he muffled a scream. Dream, the boy turns in anger but is stopped by a shove, he coughs as his back landed roughly on a wall. 

“No..”He trails off, falling against the hard surface, warm liquid blurring his vision as he begins to faint, seeing the last sight of a dragon landing in the entrance. It was red, and angry but worst of all, it was real. Not fantasy nor hallucinations, it’s fiery breath burns whatever tries to stop them, Its eyes flaring and scouting the area, almost intelligently. Dream coughs, his eyes see the eldest and crowned prince reaching out to him as a man carries him on his back, he screams his name before everything turns into black.

5 YEARS LATER

Dream recovered and regretted that moment for the rest of his life, there wasn't another night when he could rest easy, facing very many horrors and nightmares. Knowing that he may have been liable for the loss of the crowned prince, he did not avoid feeling guilty. But the royal family never blamed him, not even Prince Will, who was the most distraught of them all. He became sick, exhausted, and lonely in the palace. Dream is his first and only friend. He consoled and interacted with him every day. He was now 18 years old, but he still held on to his dolls that he played with his brother as a child. His belongings were never thrown away, nor was the memory of the fallen prince.  


  
After he was gone, the whole kingdom mourned, the king and queen came back from their urgent meetings and errands. Both were stunned to see their palace on fire and falling to its end. The king, in particular, was destroying the whole throne room when he found out about his eldest son, he became reckless and hadn’t cooled until the queen put her foot down and slapped him. 

  
  
“He was the world to me just as he was to you!” She said, breaking to her knees and embracing her mourning husband. The world around them covered with fire and despair for their missing child. 

...

...

“—and you should taste it before he does. Understand?” A thunderous voice said disrupting Dream's thoughts. 

“Huh?” Dream snapped and stared at the man in front of him, Sam. He was the royal family cook, he was often strict but goofy and he would sometimes ask Dream to bring the food to Prince Will because it was most likely the only way for him to eat. He nods at the chef, grabbing the tray and walking to the door. 

Sam sighs, shaking his head with a smile. “For the glory of the Sun to set in Manburg.” He saluted as he went back to work in feeding the other royal family, constantly nagging at the other servants to compliment his work. 

Dream leaves the kitchen and hums a little song, strolling through the hallway with a tray on his hands. 

_“Sir Dream? Is that you singing?”_ A voice echoes, the guard halts and purses his lips. Dream’s ears suddenly redden at the realization he was loud so he clears his throat abruptly.

“Your highness.” He greets slowly as he enters, the room is not lit but seems to have been supported by the light of the moon. The balcony had its doors opened, white silky curtains were dancing with the wind. Bamboo trees drumming along to the beat of the flow of air and the howls of free wolves engulfed the silent night. The prince was sitting in his bed, a blanket covering his lower torso, his hands gently placed in front of his in an elegant and patient manner. 

“Dinner is served.” He bows and puts the tray on his lap, he covers her lips with his right hand. 

“Will you sing for me again?” Will asks, teasingly. His eyes were happy above the bags dark enough to a quarter of his cheeks. 

Dream coughs away the embrassment and scratches his head. “You should ask the royal musicians, the king hired the best of the best after all.” He turned to look away, Will was probably the only one who knew he liked singing. He would do it whenever the prince was sick (sicker than usual) or struggling, he said that it often gave better medical effects than herbs. 

The prince nods, grabbing his utensils delicately. But Dream realizes as a memory shoots through his head, Sam yelling at his face about the ethics of a guard in the food department. His hand suddenly snatching the spoon, he says. “Hold on, I haven’t checked the taste yet.”

“Dream, it’s just pork stew-“

“Haven’t you heard from the scrolls of the olden times when they poisoned people? They do it to the most comforting types of food, ones that you eat during the night so people will not suspect and assume you’re asleep.” He says, grabbing a spoonful of the soup, adjusting his mask, and putting it in his mouth. He almost curses, Sam is definitely too good at his job. He puts down the spoon and wipes it with the towel.

“I have. But I don’t think Sam would ever want me poisoned.” Will says, his eyebrow raised. 

Dream sighs, munching slightly. “This is why you’re not fit to be king just yet. The gullibility you hold will someday kill me.” 

Prince Will, holds and stops eating. He puts down his utensils as his eyes seem to have changed. 

“Being king was never supposed to affect my future. I stole it from Georgie.” He says. 

Dream freezes. His hands curl into fists.

“Dream—-No, Sir Dream. I know why you’re so protective of me. Why you’re always treating me like your own sibling.” The prince looks at the boy, his pupils shaking. He clutches Dream’s hand that was laying on a blanket. “You’re filling up the hole you thought you made—“

“Enough!” Dream shouts. Closing his eyes, breathing uneasily. He inhales and tries to sound calm. “Please, just eat your food.” 

The Prince has been shocked by his change, but he hesitantly lets go of his hand. “I lost my brother, and you lost a friend. You thought we could be each other’s replacement.”

Anger, confusion, and anxiety filled Dream’s body. He kneels beside him and strikes the floor with his fist in anger, he seems to look like he is going to break down, but he holds his head with shaking hands. Trying to steady his brain to whatever thoughts were knocking in the deepest parts of his skull. 

“I didn’t replace him. Both of you are too special to me to be that way. I did this because I simply wanted to be here for you. I wanted you to be happy.” Dream says, resting his forehead on his hand. “He's gone and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. You must’ve felt lonely.” 

Will shakes his head, he doesn’t reply for a few seconds before saying. “The moment I knew that he was gone. I hadn’t stopped feeling that the whole world slashed me into two, stealing away the other part of me,” he said, emotionless. The Prince was always stoic, refusing to show his true emotions even in front of someone he deemed worthy to trust. He pats him on the head. But Dream knew different, he knew the sounds of his wails whenever he was left alone or when he thought no one was listening. “I’m going to be okay if you promise you will,” 

Dream raises his head and smiles at him slightly, even if Will couldn't see it from his mask.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for giving me a chance and reading this chapter-ehm trailer? more like a trailer? For what's coming. But since it does have its original and significant direction, I don't really know what to call it;-; Anyway I'll upload the chapters as soon as I've checked everything's okay. I think I'm done with 10?


	2. Blade's Recklessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has grown taller, not as tall as Blade, his best friend in Pogtopia; a tribe that took him from his kingdom. After being brainwashed and trained, George is stripped from his royal identity but he feels a tiny hole in his heart that misses his family. For Blade, there is nothing more deadly than caring about someone who can not protect themselves. Both of them find themselves caught up in a blunder as sailors and mercenaries reach the shore of Pogtopia to trade bootleg items and dangerous artifacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected friendship between the Blade and Georgie, what will they do? 
> 
> Please do not plagiarize, repost or share my works in any platforms without my consent/permission.

“George.” A tall, young man wearing a boar skull as a mask is heard trampling his footsteps in the snow to a frozen lake nearby the village. He sees the boy, dressed warmly for winter: a cream jacket with a fur hood, paired with jeans and brown leather boots. He was looking out into the winter view of white pine trees and shining ice replacing the calm lake. He had his hands securely into his pockets, and he seemed warm enough although the cloud of his cold breath was visible from a mile away. 

“Good morning, Blade. You’re awake.”

He shivers, not turning around to see him. Blade takes off his mask and rolls his eyes visibly, he grabs the hood of the boy and pulls him away from the scene. 

“You know it’s getting harder to find you as each day progresses. I hate to say it but hide and seek may be the only game you’re better than me.” He says, in a matter-of-fact voice. Coughing the phlegm forming in his throat, he squints in annoyance. After their last battle in the northern kingdoms, he was starting to feel the impact it did in his throat. 

George pulls away from him, walking back into the lake before sitting down by the icy waters, refusing to listen to the man like a little child. Blade stares at him in disbelief, sighing in defeat and finally sitting next to him, playing with the snow next to him. 

“Does your infrangible focus connects to you still thinking about your family?” Blade asks begrudgingly, not wanting to know the answer but guessing it was right to ask. 

“I guess,” he says, shrugging. “I’m wondering if they’re eating well this winter,” George answers with a tiny smile. He looks at him playing with his bracelet, an important possession for some members of the tribe that symbolizes power. Blade holds a bead and twirls it. 

“The moment you are bound to the secret of our existence—the tribe, Pogtopia, and its allies, your past life is said to have vanished with your name,” Blade says. Pity flowed slowly from his eyes, knowing what his ancestors did to George. But the prince cared about them now—heck, even loved them. Despite George’s old family that was filled with much hatred to their species, it was surprising to see him grow to this benign and accepting young man. He knew how to believe in their perspective, and why they did it. 

“You know this. You know it’s best to assume that they have moved on.” 

George fakes a nod. But Manburg was his home, the kingdom that was of many faults. They harvested knowledge of the Pogtopia’s existence, stashing them in their public libraries, reading about their presence, and believing it to be myths and legends. 

After they stole their prince, making it known how angry they were for breaking their trust, they did nothing to get him back. Cowering in fear, something that no one expected from the kingdom of Manburg. For generations, their forces were unstoppable. It made the other kingdoms question their ability to fight back.

The eldest prince, George, adapted to their standards, trained hard, played hard, and became as far as a member of the apprentice to the leader of all dragons, the alpha. He was the talk of the entire village, the first human, to ever be rewarded that label. “How was the competition?” George asks the Blade.

Blade groaned in a low tone of exasperation. “Sapnap won the last dragon race by 0.4 points. I’m terrified he’s never going to let this down.”

George chuckles in disbelief. “Kind of makes you realize how much he looks up to you.”

“Hmm,” Blade says, spacing out and imagining the scenarios in his head, shivering at the thought.   
  


“I’ll beat him next time.”  
  


”I know.” 

Both of them were enjoying the silence until George slowly interjected.

“Humans seemed to have been comfortable near our territory lately,” George says, a voice dry towards his own race. He stands up cautiously as his eyes find something unusual. 

Blade snorts. “What’s new—“But George grabs his chin to forcefully point him to the direction he was looking, not breaking eye contact with the north. 

“Blade?”

“Phwat?” He answers cheeks squished. 

“Look.” George points at the farther trees up north, behind it there comes a clear line of smoke. 

“Ship wrecks.” He says. Changing the gears of his boots to saw-toothed blades to skate on ice, as he lurches up and runs on the frozen lake—right to the humans. 

The hair on Blade’s arm stood up, his senses heightened and his stomach dropping. 

Sighing, he follows his friend forward. 

_“When will I ever rest?”_

Blade closes his eyes, he wears his mana-induced mask and focuses on his core, as the heat starts to swell his muscles, his blood boiling. Scales forming to replace his skin, his eyes turn a fluorescent sea green color, long bat-like sprouting of his back forming in his shoulder blades, and smooth white color instead of his pink hair. He grows a thicker snout, sprouting sharp teeth, and transforms into a creature much larger than him or any normal being. 

“George!” He screams but came out as a horrific roar to the prince. The latter turns and looks at him in bewilderment, he seems to have a slight argument with himself before opening his arms wide as the winged creature swoops his into the sky. He screams in fear, making the dragon lose focus and flabbergasted. He growls tenderly at him. 

_‘This is not your first time’_ He wanted to tell him.

They landed on a small hill near the ships of the humans, Blade closes his wings and stooped low so George could get off him. He does so with shaky legs as he gently nudges his head. “I’m still terrified whenever you take off.” he brushes off the snow on his arms, as Blade bows slightly but apologetically. 

George walks to the edge and looks over the cliff.

There was a shipwreck near the edge of the sandy beach, almost invisible to the mist, the masts were slashed horribly, and the decks had broken holes. The sounds of men, rattling goods, and hooves trotting along the sides of a mountain as humans were seen carrying cargo to a safer place. 

“They’re trying to look for shelter.” George realizes, making Blade growl anxiously. “If they stay here, they will find us. The tribe. They’ll find Pogtopia,”

_‘Just give me a signal, I’ll blow those ships up.’_ Blade tried to say by pushing George’s back with his snout. George shakes his head disapprovingly, looking at him with determination. Blade is disappointed with his friend’s pacifist ways.

“They will rain hell if you come closer, those cargos are gunpowder. It’s a warship. No way you can do this alone.” he strokes him slowly, but Blade pulls away stubbornly, trying to convince him how powerful he was by jumping and spreading his wings. But he only shakes his head.

“That's enough idiot, we won’t be—“

_‘Shoot!’_

_‘Shoot!’_

_‘Shoot!’_

**‘THUD!’** Blade’s dragon body lays across the grass field unconscious as men start emerging from the pine trees. 

George screams before getting shot himself and having his vision blurred by the same men that took down his giant friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will just escalate from here;)


	3. George Gets Awakened By a Furry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blade and George encounter a pair of interesting lads on Cloud Vessel-in the midst of sweat, rum, and splinters on weather worn decks, Eret has a proposition for Blade and he admits his relations and revelation on the lost prince of Manburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, according to statistics, someone actually reads this? And even gives Kudos. I am so grateful. Thank you!
> 
> p.s the chapter title is a joke.

* * *

“....Well, it seems like we’ve struck a goldmine.” George hears as he groggily opens his eyes, facing a mysterious man with a smug grin and tangerine-colored ears that looks stolen from a fox. 

“Hey sleepyhead!” He says in the most enthusiastic tone. 

George jerked upright, panicked, struggling to move his arms. He sees metal restraining his wrists and ankles, cutting into his cold skin.

The man laughs at his attempts and claps his hands in delight. 

“I’m Fundy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome aboard the Cloud Vessel, aka my ship.” He reaches a hand, laughing once again when he learns that George was too tied up (quite literally) to shake it. 

“Good morning.” Blade had his arms restrained too, seeing he was well-behaved on his own seat brings a strange comfort to George. And it was a bat of his eye, where Fundy decided to suddenly move so quickly that George notices too late that he is now behind his friend, stroking his hair, then smelling the curve of his neck. “You reek.”

Blade did not kick nor squirm. “You placed a cold-tolerant creature inside a sweaty underside of a ship.”

“By cold-tolerant, you mean high-maintenance?” Fundy tilts his head.

“Since when was snow a scarce resource.”

“Since we sailed miles of deep, unfrozen water, _Buckaroo_.”

George stares at the scene with amusement and annoyance.

“What do you guys want?” He did not know why but his vitality seemed to have drained. He questioned why Blade wasn’t going berserk and commit arson by burning the whole room with his dragon abilities. “We didn’t do anything. We were just watching you from afar.”

Fundy listens and sneers at the pastel-haired man, Blade’s head limp on the side, his eyes closed and tired. He coughs orange acid, making Fundy writhe, he stands up and wipes his hands.

“How useless you must feel after we hit you seconds after you landed.” He mutters, brushing off the dust and cackles. “Eret’s formula is a game-changer.” Fundy’s laugh once again echoes and haunts both of them as he was walking out the door. 

He turned around one last time. “You're fortunate that we were the first to see you. Others may have sold you to the counterfeit goods with your limbs and head."

He's closing the door. Leaving them in the dark.

The door opens again after an hour of waiting, revealing a taller, more gentle-looking man than the previous.

“Name. And can I kill you?” Blade huffs. George glares at his cockiness, both of them were still restrained and powerless. There was no way he would’ve pulled that off. 

“Eret, I’m the one that shot you.” He says rather proudly, staring at Blade.

“Great. The second answer?”

“No, you _cannot_ kill me, Blade.”

The latter looks away sluggishly and grumbles at the wall. He looks better after George comforted him, and gave him reassurance.

Eret has a platter in his hands, a bowl filled with grapes, cheese, and bread along with two bottles of wine. 

“I suppose you’re not here to give me my stolen powers back?” Blade asks him sarcastically. Eret places the food on the side and rubs his hands together. Looking almost pitiful at Blade.

“Stole? No, I would never. Instead, I just gave you something temporary. A side effect of a plant that we have in our kingdom," He says, gesturing to the ocean. George stares at his face, he looks kind. Like a man that has never held a weapon before, his tone was convincing too, welcoming them despite restricting their movements. 

“Where is that man?” Blade asks.

Eret appears to be lost for a moment before he responds. "Oh, you're talking about Fundy? He’s manning the ship.”

“Oh,” George says, wiggling his wrists in an attempt of freeing it. “Can we go outside? It’s getting really hard to breathe in here,”

Blade adds. “You were breathing?”

Eret looks at him for a moment, his eyes unreadable before he smiles. “Well, since you’re harmless. I don’t have a reason to say no.”

Blade swoops down the deck using the side ropes, landing with a little grunt. He acknowledges that it will take time and get used to the ship, and it turns out that it's not half as bad. He was not troubled by the fact that he was essentially captured by these sailors, simply because he knew that the tribe was not going to worry about them. Their people will often find themselves in circumstances such as this, roaming and visiting places they've never been before. Yet he's sweating like a pig, conscious about how his father would respond if he brought with him the prince who was only half-capable with human to human combat.

“Afternoon, good sir!” Fundy appears out of the captain’s room (Eret’s) and shouts over the loud waves. “Do you get seasick?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Blade answers. He wanted to add that he was used to it because of how similar it feels while flying as a dragon, but did not because his throat felt dry from Eret’s paralyzing shot. “George. He can’t stand on moving objects.” Blade recalls his flight with him last time.

“I only felt nauseous because of the height.” George defends himself with a smile, but then automatically disappears once he realizes what he was supposed to say to him in the first place. “I contacted Phil, he’s not happy about it. But if it keeps the tribe safe, he’s willing to give us that chance. So until we manage to lead the humans to their homeland, we’re staying with them for protection.” 

“How am I supposed to protect them? They took away my powers.” Blade crossed his arms, clearly bitter from the fact that his abilities will come back within a few weeks more. He settles down a barrel and fiddles with his bracelet. 

Fear was the first emotion Blade felt when he realized he could no longer turn into a dragon, assuming that the power was taken from him permanently. But in the depths of his heart, he’s relieved. It’s good to feel totally human sometimes. Especially when you’ve been treated like a legend or a god for all your life. Despite having so many people to lead and that loves him in the tribe, sometimes his power gives off the feeling of loneliness. That he has to bear with this burden alone.

‘What would I have been if I had no powers? Would I still inherit the tribe and become like Phil?’ He asks himself. 

“This is why I never liked flying with you. Your thick head never took martial arts lessons and relied too much on your gift. One day, you might turn that gift to a curse.” George says as he walks away from and to the area where Fundy was.

“Hey,” Eret called, Blade turned to him, seeing how he gestures with his figures to come closer. Blade does so and follows him to his room. 

“Are we doing some kind of ritual to get my powers back?” Blade asks. Eret shook his head, laughing slightly at him. He pats his desk and asks Blade to sit down. The latter found the hammock beside his only tiny, circular window. He put his weight down and swayed back and forth. “What’d you call me for?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you to come with us.” Eret straightforwardly said, he crossed his fingers together, and with pursed lips, he explained. “Our home needs people like you. We can pay you more than you can ever need.”

Blade frowns. “Is there a war?” 

Eret follows his facial expression, lowering his head apologetically. “Blade. The thing is—“

“You want to use me.” Blade bluntly answered. His eyes did not dare to meet him. “You want me to bring terror to your enemy.”

“Just scare them. There will be no need for your fighting—“

“And what if I was attacked? What then.” Blade argues as he stands up, curling his fists. His nostrils flaring as the air suddenly felt cold beneath the blue robe that Fundy gave him. Eret massages his nose bridge, running his other hand through his hair. He seems to look as troubled as Blade. He sighs to the younger boy. 

“Yes. Yes, we do know.” Eret looks up to him, his eyes shining with guilt. “We know about the war caused by your kind in Manburg years before, we knew it the moment we saw you.” 

The bracelet Blade was wearing felt heavier, he feels like his skin is on fire. “You know-“

“We know who George is,” Eret admits. “We know he’s a boy that was kidnapped when he was young from a very, very, important family—“

Eret suddenly gets cut off by a pair of hands holding his neck tightly, as the back of his head hits the wall. He sees a pair of glowing, unfamiliar eyes staring back at him. 

“ _ **Careful, human**_ ,” It was Blade, his voice low as if mixed with the loud waves of the oceans, or a beast that hides deep within its abode. “Your next few words will be important.”

“Blade _what_ are you doing?” George screams, appearing in the door, Fundy by his side. With alarming eyes and a terrified look on his face, Blade sees and softens his group making Eret gasp for air. “Let him go, _now_ ,” 

“I suggest you do, son.” Fundy loads a tranquilizer, pointing in his direction.

“You don’t want to carry a crime of killing a royal don’t ya?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, thank you for reading. If anyone else is wondering, Eret is actually my favorite comfort streamer. So it was really exciting to write about him for the first time. I made Fundy very talkative and a lil sassy because I think it'll be useful for carrying dialogues in the future. Anyways, see you in the next chapter I guess. Bye!


	4. Dreamscape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. He feels disheartened and after looking for George for 5 years, the feeling gets worst and his emotions gets the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found Dream hot in this one for some reason ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Dream plays with a black pawn, waiting for his opponent. Under the table, his feet shook impatiently, but his expression remained cold and stoic. He stroked his chin, anticipating a number of moves ahead while Dream looked around for openings. He grabs a bishop, hesitating before putting it to a black tile.

“Check—“

“Sir Dream!” A regular guard busts through the doors, their eyes glistening with tears. They breathe in before saying what the whole palace would consider the impossible.

“He has returned.”

Dream drops his piece as he processes what he meant, the guard bows down before him in respect. Dream doesn’t even give him a moment to speak;

“He would like to meet you privately in the throne room but the king and queen, they’re not here to-”

Shooting up his seat, Dream completely forgets his game of chess. He picks up his mask and passes the guard, running through the halls as fast as his feet could take. Dream was readying his sword in case of imposters, because he simply couldn’t believe it. His feet kisses the land, relishing the cool air on his neck and springing messy steps along the palace floor.

The large, wooden doors opened for him, and for what seemed like a century.

Dream sees George, standing in the middle of the room.

He seems to look as confused as Dream was.

People always talk about the color of their eyes, as though it were significant, but George—he would be beautiful in any shade. Intensity, sincerity, gentleness flow through his gaze as he slowly turns towards the knight.

George starts walking towards him. “Dream-?“ He approached the tall man, a gentle smile graced his lips. Dream could only stare as George reaches out his hand and touches his cheek, tracing the goofy smile on his mask.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Dream cuts his off and steps back. Fearing to look at him, how he’s changed without him. How he was unable to see his grow because he lost him.

George laughs cruelly, “How could you have done this?”

And there it was. The line that haunted him for 5 years. The line that made it clear that Dream was the reason why George was gone.

His skin soon became like the surface of a stew that had been boiling. Toxins bubbled under his thick skin, his blood acting almost like gas, looking for release. And so it had been. The bubbles burst as readily as geysers, one by one.

**“Dream!”**

Dream was shocked by an ominous boom out of his abysmal nightmare. His cheeks were damp with tears and his body was soaked in a cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around his limbs, presumably because he was in his asleep half-naked. His heart was pounding against his chest.

“Are you alright?” Sam suddenly appears beside him, but Dream stared at the ceiling in silence. The remains of his nightmare still clinging onto him like baited fish.

Dream helps himself up but does it too quickly that he feels his brain beating through his skull and feels a suspicious ache against his spine. It had been obvious he had been wasting days without training. Ever since Wilbur got sick, both of them ended up never leaving the palace.

He rolls to the edge of the mattress and throws his pillow to the bed. “It was a nightmare.”

Sam flinches. “Yikes man, you’ve been getting those way too often.”

Dream fixes his bed before he and Sam heads inside the kitchen, Dream limping behind and forgetting to wear a shirt. Sam, fortunately, does not mind. He is quite used to seeing naked guys walking around the servant headquarters. Dream rubs his eyes and hears the clinking of metals outside, he assumes his other peers decided to do some early drills.

Dream sits on the counter, leaning onto his side and closing his eyes as his sleepiness takes over him. Sam thankfully slams a plate of sliced fruits beside him, making him jerk awake.

“Your favorite. Apples.”

Dream thanks him before taking a big slice into his mouth as Sam fills a wooden cup with water, passing onto him.

“Wash it down, big guy. And for god’s sake, chew your damn food properly.”

“Did I do anything last night?” Dream asks as he hops off the counter and leans against it, earning a confused look then a chuckle from Sam.

“Not much, honestly. You just fell off the bed once but I got Darryl to help me.” Sam shrugs, taking an apple from his plate and munching on it. “You know, my mother once told me deep sleepers are more prone to be killed in their sleep.”

Dream grins sideways, shaking his head at the taller man before they both continue to eat in silence.

“What do you...” Sam begins to speak, a bit hesitant before continuing. “What do you actually dream about?”

“Stuff...People. Regrets.” Is the most honest answer Dream could give him. It was the only answer Dream could give him.

Sam was obviously dying to know more, with his eyes bright and open. He coughs and scratches his head awkwardly. “Yeah, uhm.. some context would be nice.”

Dream sighs, swishing his wooden mug around like wine. He chugs it down and wipes the corner of his lips. He looks at Sam again with a smug stare. “Stuff people regret is an extremely descriptive sentence.”

“By whose terms?” Sam raises a brow.

“Mine.” Dream winks, setting down his plate and mug. Sam follows him with his face filled with amusement, “Also, will you not tell the others about what happened.”

“Which one? Falling out bed or waking up crying?” Sam snorts, catching the towel Dream threw out of prediction of his behavior.

“Any of it.”

Sam looks at him with his lips slightly pouted in disappointment.

“Not even Darryl?”

“ _Sam._ ”

“Fine!” Sam sighs in defeat, a soft smile comes spreading across Dream’s chapped lips. He’s happy to see Sam more open than he used to be, quiet and gentle, now he’s talkative and even knew how to start and end a conversation properly.

“I’ll be going to Will’s now.” Dream motions to the door, he jumps as he hears Sam gasping.

“Crap! I forgot to make his breakfast.” Sam panics, running for the cupboards and pulling out a large pot. Dream laughs softly and bids him goodbye, before heading to the royal room of the only living heir of the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just finished a portion of my research paper and so far, I just wanted to take a break from writing academics and remind myself why I love writing in the first place. Thanks again for reading! I hope everyone has a good day/night.
> 
> p.s Sam is cute. Just me? Aight..Imma head out. Peace <3
> 
> \- Beans


	5. The Maze and Alex The Squire Is A Piece of Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream thinks he's losing his mind. He decides to take a walk outside the palace to clear his head but finds himself being followed by the things he was trying to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! As I'm writing this, it's currently 5am because further into the morning, I will have to be very busy with a lot of shit because it's that time of the month where professors just LOVE cramming the deadlines.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, my loves.

Dream rubs his hands together as he trudges along the narrow path to the garden. He can’t stand being indoors for too long, as much as his other friends managed to quickly adjust from not doing any sort of physical activity within the past two days, he couldn’t do the same. That’s why when he delivered the prince’s breakfast, he heads out immediately. He looks over the courtyard, a tall beautiful tree stands in the middle, surrounded by bodies of water. Lanterns were hung in the branches, illuminating the scene. 

  


“Oh—I didn’t know someone was here.” A man’s voice was heard behind him, making him turn his head to see the prince himself, Will. A sheepish look on his face as he walks backward slowly.

  


“What are you—Will—I mean, your majesty.” He bows in front of him, he stops and looks at him in a stern manner. “Why are you…did you follow me?”

  


The prince walks to him, looking at him in wonder. He ends up bursting into laughter, before apologizing for doing so. “Did I scare you?”

  


“How did you get out of your room?” Dream quirked a brow, ignoring his question.

  


“We’re just ignoring each other’s questions.” The prince says, putting his hands gently on his back. Staring into the view of the large tree, leaving Dream sees some sort of emotion from the Prince’s eyes he can’t pinpoint. Happiness? Relief? “Let’s make a deal and not ask, yeah?”

  


“Okay.” The knight stuttered. “But I thought you hated being outside.” 

  


Suddenly as the seconds passed, the more the waters seem to be audible to his ears, his body becoming more aware of the direction of the wind. The sky was of fluorescent color, and in his lake of endless chaos became clearer.

  


“Of course, _you_ would think so.” 

  


“..Pardon?” Dream looks puzzled by him. Metal clatters across the other side of the garden, probably from the arena his friends are training at. Dream suddenly gets distracted by it, paranoid by any noise in the presence of the sick prince.

  


“Huh? Nothing, I was just—thinking of something else.” Will plays it off as a joke, his cheeks emitting an obvious shade of red.

  


Dream doesn’t understand him. It’s not that he never tried to read Will, the young prince was stubborn not to show any side of himself that he considers vulnerable. Which makes Dream laugh, because in his state, he had always been so vulnerable. That was why Dream had a job to protect him. He respects his desire to hide his pain, to reach outside with the little strength he has but he needn't be someone he was not. With his arrogance, sometimes even Dream forgets the prince was suffering.

  


They head into the maze of sculpted bushes. Not the kind of place Dream would ever want the prince to be in, he was afraid both of them might get lost so he sticks close to him.

  


“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Dream jokes, stopping at the maze, a smug look on his face. Will turns to him, then he laughs.

  


“Sure.” Will heads deeper into the maze, still chuckling to himself.

  


Dream tries not to think too much about it or let it get under his skin, but this was not the first time the prince would talk to him like a little child. Not that Dream cares, he knows he’s extremely oblivious sometimes and to someone who he’s been clinging to all his life, he would want to be dotted by the person.

  


He huffs and brushes it off, strolling once again with the prince of Manburg. After a few seconds of silence, his mind drifts off to the dream he had last night. His tongue wets his lips and his eyes drifting across the sky as if it was a canvas he could paint on with his imagination. He sketched George, his grown-up body, the sheer size of his brown eyes, he even finds his thoughts lingering onto his lips.

  


_‘What?’_

  


There’s a rattling heading in front of them and Dream straightens up, hand wrenching his sword out of its sheath. He rushes in front of the prince who had stumbled backward from shock.

  


“Stand back.” Dream holds his weapon against his hip, still half-concealed because of the precaution that he might raise his hand against a royal or noble, a crime that is not easily forgiven. He walks forward, keeping his footsteps light and his back hunched as he moves through the tall grass walls.

  


The loud rattling clashes and clangs, then someone screams in pain. Will ducks down behind Dream, starting to become aware of the danger.

  


“Fuck!” Someone hisses out a curse, Dream’s heart almost stops when he sees Alex, a squire in training, sucking on his index finger which seemed to be the reason of his breakdown.

  


“Alex!” Dream scolds, putting his sword away as he walks up to the boy. “The hell are you thinking? Shouting in the holy ground?”

  


“I’m not religious—“Alex starts to say before he sees Will peering behind Dream’s back. His mouth drops to the floor, his body following soon after. ” _Oh_ , my lord.”

  


“It’s alright—“Will tries to say, before getting cut off.

  


“You almost made me use my weapon.” Dream says, head shaking. “I was ready to _kill_ you!”

  


“I’m grateful? But Sir--he said it’s okay!” Alex says, motioning to the prince.

  


“Is he in charge of you?—don’t answer that, your highness.” Dream cuts him off again when Will tries to raise a finger to oppose. He lowers his finger and crosses his arm at him.

  


“Don’t scare the poor child,” Will says in a pouting tone.

  


“He is not scare—“

  


“He’s right.” Alex says in exasperation, “I am petrified.” With the most unafraid look on his face, Dream only scrunches his brows.

  


Will laughs, nodding at them both before he turns to walk once again. He pivots to give Dream one last charming smile. “Well gentlemen, I could’ve taken care of myself either way if it was an attack.” He slips his hands down into the pockets of his white robe.

  


Dream and Alex only stared at the prince’s back before the knight turns to the squire. “Would you have taken him if you were an assassin?”

  


“Are you kidding me? He’s so skinny that I would’ve squashed him like a grape.”

  


Dream feels his breath gets sucked from his lungs, at least he knew his assumptions were true. Before he could verbally disagree with the prince, he’s gone. Dream hits Alex’s nape, a little punishment but also a sign of endearment. Alex winces and rubs the part where he was hit.

  


“Hey-!” But Dream was now also gone, jogging to go find the prince. 

  


——-

  


“Stupid Dream.” Sapnap mutters, holding a compass in his hands as both he and his companion walked through a small market down the kingdom of the said rulers of the green country, Manburg. Trudging across the narrow road, he sighs and looks up to the gray sky. “What was he thinking?” 

  


“I don’t know. Must’ve been a hard bargain for him to actually let himself stay indoors for this long.” Karl shrugs as he takes a crunchy bite off his apple, his other hand holding a rope tied to a donkey they won from a recent bet that they most certainly did not use their powers to cheat. “I mean our order ended up losing a lot in the combat drills because he's usually the commander in line.” 

  


“Well, I guess he’ll do anything for the princess,” Sapnap grumbles, careful enough that the last insult only remained between them two, making Karl throw his head back in laughter. 

  


“Jealous?” 

  


“You're not funny.” Sapnap rolls his eyes.

  


“Wasn't trying to be~” Karl says in a sing-song voice, earning a warning punch on the arm. They both end up breaking it off by jokes and laughter, heading straight to the palace without a pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap just wants his knight commander back-d'aww
> 
> I just wanted to say, thank you so much for reading this story. It really does mean a lot.
> 
> P.S I just realized Dream is like a boring old man but everyone around him is so interesting that it just makes sense lmao. He's like the guy that watches everything and is in love with George Not Found. Oop-
> 
> See ya, peace!
> 
> -Beans


	6. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blade is confronted by George and the latter is surprised by how obedient he suddenly is, unknowingly, he remains oblivious to Blade's empathy and his choice to let go of George after years of protecting. George was no longer in the shackles of his destiny. Or so, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies, I'm sorry I haven't posted for literal DAYS. I have been extremely busy for our project week which is basically just a week for teachers to torture their students into passing almost 3 homeworks a day. Occasionally, a really big project. Thus, my break. Also, it isn't done so I might be a bit busy till next week. I'll try to make time for ya'll, love you <3

* * *

During the journey to return the humans to their country, his drugged state against the comfy cushions of the chair, the bracelets he wore felt heavy as his eyelids raised and lowered against the soft winds.

Blade had survived kidnappings before. He used to have no tension whenever he was being held captive by humans.

But George was here, and he had no powers.

Blade was born with mana more than anyone else has sensed in this kingdom. The moment he let out his first cry, the entire room he was born in shook to the ground and all the midwives in the room bowed beyond their will, it was as if his presence was telling them to worship him.

The magnitude of his magic was so strong, it made a huge impact on the entire race.

But here he was, held at gunpoint by a herbal substance.

The anxiety in his stomach, curled, and scorching. Inside the swaying ship sailing acrosss the sea, underneath the dripping roofs from the upper deck, sat the said man on his chair, writing a letter for his father to calm his nerves.

_‘Father,_

_Have you been well?_

_I’m doing quite alright_

_George is.._ —‘He stops, trying to find the right word.

_‘Stupid.’_

“Blade.” The door reveals a familiar face with a monotone look. _Ah, speak of the devil._

“George?” Blade carefully closes the letter.

“I’ve come bearing queries. If you may excuse me.” George came to stand before the open archway of the ship. He bows sarcastically and half-heartedly asking for his permission. Blade puts down his quill and motions for him to continue.

“Eret explained his situation. And it turns out...He’s from my—Well, my parents’ kingdom.”George swallows a lump on his throat. “It seems like we’ll be heading our way there.”

“Then we must head back immediately.” Blade snaps back with his instincts kicking in before he formulates a proper reply, he softens when he sees George look down at his shoes, a bit afraid to continue and speak about what he truly felt, and how much he actually misses his family. “But, without my powers, I guess it’s useless to fight.” He adds with a small stutter.

George looks up again to see him looking away to the small circular window of the ship as if lost in thought. “Are you being serious?”

“When was I ever not serious?” Blade tilts his head.

George’s eyes widened in realization. “You’re right—never, but oh my god.” He grabs a fistful of his dark and soft hair, his stare in disbelief. “You’re really letting me do this—I-I’m really going back. _Oh. My. God_.”

“You’re welcome.” Blade waves his hands, suppressing a small smile.

George suddenly was a child again, he jumped and fist-bumped the air and walked out the door muttering to himself but he stops at the doorway.

Turning around, “Will they hate me?”

“No.” Blade shakes his head.

George smiles and finally doesn’t look back. And a part of Blade screams at himself to go after him, to drag him back to Pogtopia, where he belonged. Another part of him reminds himself that there is no place that’s safe for George anymore, he was an adult and he was capable of making his own decisions, suffering any consequences, and experiencing any happiness that may come his way.

Blade turns to his paper again, looking at the word he described George a while ago. With his quill, he scribbles over it and he writes.

**_‘George is free.’_ **

—

“Eret, you can’t possibly be so sure that it’s him.” Fundy began. Eret was not listening, already too convinced that George was the long lost prince. “He may just be a bloke with a similar face and name…If it isn’t true, Eret—the punishment won’t be as light—“

“What are you so afraid of? It is true. I know it is.” It was somehow not even a surprise for Eret, he had been searching for this young man as much as Dream did. And the fact he found him first, tickled a place in Eret’s stomach that was waiting to rub it all over the captain of the knight order’s face.

“We can’t go back to Manburg.” Fundy said. “It’s a trap. Not for us Eret, but for George.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Eret understood Fundy had always known this. He recalled Fundy missing the shot during their ambush on Blade’s earlier attempt.

“He’ll forgive me but if I don’t take tactical actions now, moments will pass and people will keep on dying, Fundy.” He breathes. “ _Our_ people.”

“He would’ve come back if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Which means he forfeited the throne Eret, he doesn’t want to be king!”

“We don’t have a say in this, my friend.” Casting a dark look onto the captain, Fundy draws back. “We can’t go back. He will hold the capital, _I_ will be his advisor and _you_ will end up sailing thousands of ships after he forms alliances and our country will finally gain the power it was stripped from having.”

His statements were an unfolding realization. It was clear to Fundy why Eret had been so stubborn and worked to churn out a suspicious journey to a small island. It was to take back the prince. If a coronation was to be declared, people were going to go mad with pride. They were going to throw themselves to war for the new king.

Eret was a madman, but a genius royal strategist.

“We don’t have what it takes, we can’t force people to fight—and you can’t sacrifice a person like that,” Fundy searched Eret’s face. “Is this about your reputation? Do you think you’ll go to the big leagues? Prove your little 'treasure hunt' was enough for the king to appoint you? Because it feels like you’re just trying to prove yourself, Eret.”

“You do not care for George, Fundy.” reminds Eret.

“I don’t give a flying _fuck_ for people but I don’t want to be the reason why they’re going to throw away their life.”

“He is king.”

“What is the difference?” Fundy grits his teeth. “Tell me.”

Eret purses his lips.

“Manburg is my country. I don’t want it to be overrun by a sick ruler. I will do everything in my power to prevent war and so should _you_.”

Hearing those last words, Fundy winces, immediately lowering his head as his ears shrunk in silence.

“I’m replacing you when we get back.”

Fundy just gives him a blank, confused look. “Excuse me?”

“I thought,” said Eret. “That a vicious sailor like you, with a background that is impressively brutal and ambitious, would be happy to hear that Wilbur will be dethroned by someone who is far eligible. Why side against me?—I have done nothing but well for our nation.”

“You have.” Remembering Eret’s achievements, “But I have never seen you done it with a clean record. I bet you don’t even sleep at night from all the nightmares that are haunting you.”

That, unreasonably, made Eret want to raise his voice. “This is not doing well for your case.” Not denying Fundy’s claims.

“But I’m an asset. You know more than anyone that I know the sea. I got you to Pogtopia, sank multiple ships but at least all crewmates ended up living.” He looked into Eret’s blue eyes. “I was the reason you found the prince. I can take that title away from you. Use it however I want. So—think again, do not replace me.”

Eret feels swayed. Fundy, infuriatingly, was the only person that could talk back in such an intolerable manner to him, it was like raising a stubborn child. There was nothing he could do to stop him.

Eret thought about the council. The councils’ plans were unpredictable. Eret had frankly no idea what was waiting across the sea and what move he had to do to get the best possible outcome. He could see no reason why George would not have wanted to become king and escaped his fate for 5 years. Perhaps he met people, maybe these enemies helped him blossom into a poisonous maturity where he’s corrupted by thoughts planted by the dragon shapeshifters that took him.

But from what Eret sees, George so far was a good candidate to become king, unlike his brother who was vulnerable, ill-equipped to fight a war, and unfit to rule, the bonds between countries will possibly break when Wilbur becomes king and foreign power will only apply more pressure until a new emperor takes over the crown.

If that was the case, Eret only felt more assured with the man; George would definitely inspire the people to stand tall once again.

War must be stopped, foreign powers must be rallied against, and for that, George must step in. It was possible. Peace was finally an option.

Fundy leaves the room as the sun slid slowly down across the sky and drowns into the sea. In Eret’s sleeping chambers, he lays alone in his hammock, staring up into a hole on the ceiling that shown the moonlight and the stars.

“It was always meant to be,” Eret says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STAN ERET AND FUNDY. THEY DESERVED TO BE APPRECIATED TOO!


	7. In Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream comes to visit the prince of Manburg, it was a peaceful and serene night until the Prince starts to lose himself in the effects of alcohol. Sapnap realizes Dream is lying but Will defends him, roasting the order in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE SURPRISE ! I posted a new chapter.
> 
> WARNING: Implied suicide attempt.

* * *

Dream’s eyes raked the passageway, his stare finding inconsistency by each step he took. Where were the guards that were supposed to be holding positions outside of Wilbur’s room? Did they stand down by the prince’s orders? Or had they been cleared out for another reason?

  
Something about the wind blew him forward as he could only continue along the empty corridors. The windows along the passageway threw arcs of moonlight that passed over the velvet rugs on the floor, silencing Dream’s metal boots.

  
Dream stares at the thin line of light under the doors of Wilbur’s room.

  
He looked up and sees only one guard at the door, someone he knew but wasn’t in the same order as him. A tan-skinned man, with a mask covering everything on his face except his eyes. He wore a normal uniform, dressed quite coyly but still had an elegance that danced over the cold winter’s night. At his hip, were glowing mysterious potions and a sword. The guard nodded at Dream, briefly saying. “He’s just been reading.”

  
“Thank you, Ponk.” Dream bows, respectfully.

  
The doors were pushed open and revealed what Ponk was referring to, Wilbur was reclining on a chair. Relaxed, and almost too sluggish. Scrolls were open before him, and books were piled, taking up the whole table. And Dream could just stare in wonder at how the ill prince could have carried all of those heavy books on one spot, he must have had a servant spent the requisite hour bringing these from the library. The room was lit by a small candle inside a lamp. And Wilbur’s soft brown locks fell over his eyes, covering half of his face and showing his unjewelled ear. The image was familiar, but something about the golden light onto such sad eyes made Dream have difficulty focus.

  
Dream sees a goblet beside Wilbur’s tapping finger. “Have you been drinking?” he asks.

  
Wilbur looks at him with only his eyes, he carefully closes the book. “So what if I have?”

  
“You know already.” Dream says, frustratingly.

  
Will laughed hoarsely, “I do. But I want you to say it.”

  
“You’re sick.”

  
“No.” The prince almost whispers, “I’m so close...so close to the end.”

  
Dream knew what was happening. The guards, who had been standing in the long, empty corridor that was now dark and quiet. The absence of men was the result of the prince’s internal conflict with himself. A relapse.

  
“I don’t think the Prince is sober,” said Dream, neutrally.

  
“It takes a while for me to get _really_ drunk, y’know?” said Wilbur. “I mean, I am not stabbing myself to death… _yet_.”

It was happening. As though on cue, Wilbur hisses and Dream hears the familiar sound of a dagger being unsheathed. Given no time to think, he acted on his instincts. Surely, the internal conflict inside Wilbur had been playing a toll on him recently after witnessing Manburg’s forces failing to fight back foreign tribes and colonizers.

  
Dream thinks it was always his business, that whatever acts of violence that had been pursued by the prince onto himself, he was responsible for. Maybe it was the overwhelming empathy he felt for him, to have lived through something like this, repairing himself although the failures could only pile up each day.

  
Wilbur’s grip on the dagger is slack and almost casual. After years of training, Dream could easily take it, but he fears Wilbur predicting his movements and doing something more unthinkable.

  
“ _Wilbur—_ “

  
“Dream.” Will looks over, with his half-lidded eyes. Dream waited,

  
“Kill me. Become king for me.” 

  
Dream was trying his best to steady himself before he knew it the table was knocked over and shattered pieces of a fie ceramic glass was heard crashing down with all the books left opened and sprawled across the floor. The goblet rolled over the rug and covered it with redness similar to blood.

  
Will’s breathing was shallow and so was Dream’s. In the tense, wary moment, Dream reaches out his hand steadily.   


  
  
“You seem to be tired, your highness,” said Dream, bluntly. “I’ll help you to bed.”

  
Will barely sleeps, he knew. The prince takes a shaky breath and lowers his dagger, “Why can’t you just _help_ me?”

  
“Because you don’t really want to kill yourself. You seem to always vacillate between suicide and sleep.”

  
“There’s not much of a difference,” sighs Will. “One is just permanent.”

  
“Please just cooperate with me.” Said Dream.

  
“Cooperate?” said Will, completely in disgust. He opens his mouth but before he could speak, there were footsteps from the corridor. Both turned instinctively to the doorway. The sound was the clatter of armor and weaponry, and soon guards were pouring into the room, Sapnap, Karl, Ponk, and a few others Dream doesn’t remember the names of.

  
“Are you hurt, your highness? I heard the noise and called for assistance immediately.” Ponk, the guard in charge of the room, gestured to his men.

  
“No,” dismissed Will.

  
The guards could only stand awkwardly in the doorway. Sapnap was staring at Dream while Dream was looking at Wilbur’s retreating form into his bed filled with silk sheets. “T-the noise, we thought there had been an attack”

  
“Prince Will accidentally knocked over the table.” Dream hears himself and suddenly realizes how stupid of an excuse it was, confirmed by Wilbur who audibly snickered beneath his sheets.

  
“How _clumsy_ of me,” The prince yawned.

  
“Are we being misinformed, Sir Dream?” Sapnap raised a brow, sounding like he was tasting something unpleasant. _‘Are you lying to us?’_ Dream could feel—he could _see_ that Sapnap knew, and how badly he wanted to say it, to have seen Wilbur get restrained into a recovering facility. But he only knew the captain protected him because he doesn’t want word to get out that the prince was no longer ill in body but also, in mind.

  
“Stand down, knight,” Will said, his body in a hunched sitting position on his bed. “You’re sounding very negligent to your captain.”

  
This statement itself was calmly delivered but made all the men in the room flinch a little. Dream always forgets that Will could sometimes act like this, a true king in charge that made even the strongest of men lower their heads as if they were going to be beaten by their mothers.

  
“You arrived onto the scene late. By all means, if this had been an assassin, you would have left me dead by your faults.”

  
The guards all were pulled to their knees. Will did not wait for their acknowledgment before he continues,

  
“I require a moment of privacy. Again, only one of you will be standing outside and the rest will have to be cleared. I do not favor chattering while I’m trying to fall asleep.”

  
“I’ll do it.” Dream says, since there was going to be one guard. It only made sense the strongest one was to be appointed.

“We’ll remove ourselves now, your majesty.” Ponk flushed. “Is there anything else?”

  
“Fix my desk.” Will flicks his hand and the guards complied. The table, with all the scrolls and books, were righted. The goblet was returned to its place, Wilbur’s hands. But he gives it to Dream.

  
“I’m done for today.” Wilbur closes his eyes. Dream says nothing but takes the goblet. 

  
Dream could still feel his pulse, he could not make out his own feelings. Had this been happening too often that it turned into something he was no longer shaken of? The violence, the threats, the bizarre lies had been too sudden for him.

  
He turned. Behind him, Will chokes on a cough. Dream was almost halfway through the door when he hears Will’s voice. Turning him back,

  
“Wait,” Said Will, as if he hated himself for saying it, forcing himself to do it. “It’s not safe for you to get out yet. Leaving me half-drunk is scary for me. I don’t know what I’ll be thinking if you’re gone.”

  
“ _Scary_.” repeated Dream. His voice is flat incredulity.

  
“I am aware it scared you. But I always scare you, don’t I? You’re used to it, aren’t you?” Will gives a short chuckle.

  
Dream stared at him.

  
Will said. “I know I sound selfish. I know it does hurt you. But trust me that I’ll never do it. That I only scare myself enough to _feel_ something.”

  
“ _Feel what_?” snapped Dream, making Will flinch. “What is it with you in wanting to feel ultimate pleasure in bringing terror to every person who tries to give any slight care for you. How can I trust you when you don’t even trust yourself?”

  
Will’s eyes dropped as he tips his head back against the bed’s board. Dream expected another argument, more heated, a state of denial but was only met by a soft breath of laughter.

  
_“Then go, Dream.”_

  
Dream looks at him, feeling his stomach sink to the floor.

  
“Leave me.” finished Will.

  
Dream turns to the door.

  
With Sapnap and the others on heightened alert, they knew there was real danger inside this room that was more lethal than an assassin but escaping it would mean Will had to figure himself out. That immediate danger had passed and thankfully, Wilbur had lived through it. It was another debt unpaid to Dream who was always responsible for taking care of him during his relapses. But he thought Will does not owe him anything. He is his king, after all. It’s his only duty to serve him. 

  
He opens the door, and the corridor was more empty and suffocating as he imagined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur definitely ugly cried when Dream left (Canon) lol my chest hurts from this am I okay-


	8. The Prince Has Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George arrives in Manburg, the old home from which he was abducted, it was strange, but he never knew how much he had missed from just 5 years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to take this opportunity to thank whoever has read "The Crown" like it has almost 800 hits, and more than 50 kudos. This is enough to make my heart soar because this is my actual first time here so to see this support makes me enough already. I hope all of you are there till the end. 
> 
> Love, Beans

* * *

  


Wood rattling and barrels being rolled around fills George’s ears as he looks around. The port by the sea was filled with the activity of sailors, mercenaries, storekeepers, and market boys selling today’s papers. The loud orders, the clinking sounds of horseshoes on the wooden bridges. Punctuating these were the obnoxious howls of the men who saw Fundy step his foot against the pavement, waving his hat in the air like a hero. 

  


  


George realizes he does not recognize anyone. There were the guards on the sidelines that watched his every move with stone faces throughout his walk to land. Eret was met by a servant who ducked under different obstacles before bowing to the royal counselor. Eret smiles, 

  


  


“It’s good to be back, Hugo.” He says, passing his luggage to the servant, placing his hat ontop of his head. 

  


  


With most parts of George’s mind was in chaos, he at least tried not to show it. He drew in a breath and let it out, his eyes scanning at each of the faces, curious on who knew his story or who he was. 

  


  


He was afraid betrayal would come, and he was more terrified of who it will come from. 

  


  


George thinks of Blade, logistically with his powers he would survive any ambush or slaughter from many men. It would not be discreet, but at least it wasn’t difficult. 

  


  


“This is it?” said Blade, walking next to George. “I was expecting more—“ 

  


  


Blade gets trampled by a little child on his knees, although he did not fall. He simply looked down and catches the child’s head in his hand. The little child looks up, their hands instinctively around his knees for support, they let go and smile brightly before running the opposite way. 

  


  


“Pull your hood up,” Eret suggests. “Your salmon-colored hair is attracting unwanted attention.” 

  


  


Blade does not listen to him. Not because he didn’t want to, but he was preoccupied with looking at the child that bumped into him.

  


  
“Why are there so many children?” He mutters, George shrugs at the genuinely confused man. 

  


  
“We will ride to Manburg, the capital. This is just the seaside district where the foreigners reside,” said Eret, adding. “Wait till you see the palace, your majesty.” 

  


  
Immediately, George stiffens. “Just call me George, Eret.” 

  


  
Eret, after a moment, said thoughtfully. “I see, it could take a while for you to get used to. But alright, even if it sounds wrong, I’ll call you _George_.” 

  


  
Blade snorted. Eret, who George didn’t know well enough was so far kind. He was also a man with brown hair, tall and reasonably attractive even with his hair in a careless state and under his eyes lay signs of many sleepless nights. 

  


  
“Does anyone know who I am?” George asks. 

  


“No,” said Eret. “I believe we don’t start anything yet without the council knowing first. The king and—I’m sorry, your mother and father are currently not at the palace because they are currently participating in an important meeting between the other countries in a kingdom up North to the snowy lands. The weather up there is not going to make it easier for them to come back. But a messenger owl is on its way to send them the news.” 

  


George took it without saying anything. He was looking at the floor patterns of the pavement. He wishes there was not going to be a special celebration of his return, he quite prefers a personal teary reunion rather than the impersonal ritual of a public ceremony. 

  


  
He who had been oblivious to everyone’s true intention was walking in the inner walls of the country, he could not resist turning his back and looking into the sea, further was Pogtopia, his home. 

  


  
Up ahead, was magnificent. The tall gates, the dome-like roof, and towers. The endless, intricate patterns on the walls. Banners furled around them like a starburst of blue and gold. And beautiful people carved into the creamy stone. Everywhere he looked were marble and polished, stretching themselves into the entirety of the castle. The curving height of it all made George think it was reaching the skies. 

  


  
Eret held out something to George, the gesture slow and grand. 

  


  


It was a blue mask, embedded of teardrops that were probably shining sapphires, under the eye holes were a curved line of small pearls, and above it was exaggerated lashes made of golden ink. It was carved beautifully and the weight made George think this was valuable. 

  


  


“Wear it so no one accidentally recognizes you,” said Eret,

  


  


George takes it, tucking it carefully above his face. Fundy comes behind him and helps him tie it behind his head. George smiles and motions to Blade to cover his hair. Blade huffs but complies, covering his entire head of hair with his dark green cloak. It was actually cute that Blade would not blink an eye to anyone but listen fully to George. 

  


  


As they walked to the entrance, trumpets blared as a sign of welcome. Commoners have come to watch on the sidelines, right outside the walls blocking them from the palace. The scores of people who had turned up just to see Eret was unbelievable. It was a surprise to George to see that Eret was popular amongst the townspeople. Fundy, unaware of this, was looking the part by waving brightly to the people, blowing kisses occasionally. 

  


  
Eret, straight-backed and effortless, walked exquisitely at the front. 

  


  
George only grinned underneath his mask at the irony of this situation, but none of that mattered because he was happy to see everyone enjoy their arrival. 

  


  
Hot air escaped his mouth. If this was the only way to prevent war, or even postpone it, George was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep these people safe. Seeing them now for the first time, he means it. 

  


  
He returns his eyes to the palace and enters the first part of his story. His long lost home. 

  


  


_‘Is he still here?’_ He asks himself,

  


* * *

  


Dream wakes up to the sounds of birds chirping outside his window, his sheets sticky beneath him. His vision faded from blurry to clear, with a sour taste in his mouth, he stretches his muscles and fists the sheets. He digs his face into the warmth of the pillow, stirring and humming sleepily at the feeling of his limbs pleasured by his stretches. 

  


  


“Wake up! Murder on the kitchen!” It was Sam who pulled the bedding and slams his cold palms into the bottoms of Dream’s feet. 

  


  


“Blood of Christ!” Dream scrambles awake, dropping to the floor with his forehead pressed against the stone floor. He looks up to Sam, grabbing the blankets to cover his bare chest. “What? _Murder?_ ”

  


  


“Yes, you _killed_ my morning with your loud moaning.” Sam crossed his arms, “Not the good kind. The usual kind.” 

  


  


_Nightmares_ , Dream with every mote on his body was aware he had another one of those. 

  


  


“Ow,” winced Dream, through gritted teeth. The bell outside seemed to clang through the fields of the palace. He rose with Sam’s help, beside him—he felt small. Sam was unfairly gangly and tall, it did not help he was younger than Dream for only a few months. 

  


  


“Go bathe yourself, you stink,” said Sam, passing him a towel. 

  


  


In the baths, the steam was turned on and he shared it with a few other guys but with different dividers. He soaked his hair first, his feet sliding along the white marble floor with his skin steamed and throbbing at the cold air. 

  


  


He emerges from the bath dazed and head's empty, it only felt natural as this was something he’d do every day. Ulric, the one cleaning the baths, and everyone else stared at Dream’s back. It was true that people even of the same sex loved admiring him. 

  


  


For Dream was all of a piece; his body had the same impossible grace as his skill. He was well-toned and boyish, he possessed the type of musculature that was proportionate, and standing over 6-feet, he was made for athletics and statuary. His blonde hair and bored green eyes crowning his looks.

  


  


With his mind flying elsewhere, he did not notice another man came into the hallway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I wonder who that man was? (◕‿◕)


	9. Between The Columned Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George during his first day does his best to keep his identity hidden. After being chased by a guard, he encounters far more difficult “problems” than just hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have all this work to do but all I want is to make another chapter for this fic because they're literally about to meet-
> 
> Edit: K so I did it and did not regret a single moment.

George felt hot under his mask, he stands silent so no one would not notice him or send him away. Currently standing awkwardly outside Eret’s room made him feel as if the walls were closing in on him. Eret along with Fundy had told him to stand still but it was difficult; he had to go to the bathroom. He looked around, he wondered where in the world Blade was. The man was here not too long ago but disappeared before he could even realize. 

  
He was the only one left. The smell of freshly cut lemons drenched the thick air, rivulets of sweat were tracing down his forehead. His pulse stuck in his ears. Has anyone found out yet? George takes careful steps towards the side. His chest rising and falling with a rasping sound. 

  
“Hey!” A bellowing voice echoed through the halls, making George’s blood spike. Without thinking, the boy takes off and runs the opposite way of the voice. His calm breathing became small spurts of hot and nervous takes. At his sides, he swings his fists forward to make himself faster. 

  
His feet slip outwards on the marble floor as he rounds a sharp corner, the cold air shocking his neck as he inhales. He sees the man’s silhouette behind him and he’s not making a sound. 

  
“You!” The voice was thick and deep in the echoing room. George turns around, trying to catch a glimpse of the chaser before his body slams into another and flinging both of them to the floor. 

  
“ _Mother_ of—“The man cried aloud. 

  
George did not realize he had fallen until his elbows and knees felt the cool marble against his pale skin. The obliterating sensation of the man at the floor struck his thoughts down. Panic clusters around George’s mind, thinking he had been caught. He holds his mask still on his face and shoves the person away. 

  
“Are you alright? Why are you running—“

  
“I’m alright.” Said George, shortly. Rubbing his elbows, he looks up and his composure drops instantly at the sight of the man’s face. George’s hair rises all over his body. He suddenly remembers his childhood. 

  
_Blond hair framing a commanding face_

_Features striking as the eagle._

_His head lifted to him. Opening his eyes, it was George’s confirmation._

_His heart, beats inside, faster than he was when running._

_He smells of peaches and lemons._

  
The man who was chasing George came up behind him.

  
Dream looks over George’s shoulder, his light brow slightly arched in curiosity. 

  
“Punz.” Dream nodded, signaling that he was going to take care of the stranger. Punz, the guard hesitates before walking back into the curved corridor. 

  
George was staring at him, wide-eyed. Dream ran a hand through his hair, wringing out the water. When Dream takes a step forward, George involuntarily steps back. 

  
“ _Don’t_ ,” said George without thinking, quite hoarsely. 

  
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m only wearing a towel.” Said Dream. 

  
Oh, George was very aware of that. 

  
“I’m glad to hear it.” Said George, his voice on edge. Another step he takes backward. 

  
“Your mask.” Dream was telling him while motioning to his face. “It looks familiar.”

  
“It’s mine,” George says, breathless. 

  
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Dream was talking to him the same way a person would try to calm down a wounded deer. Very cautiously, and afraid it was going to take off. “I was just trying to know who you are. The mask and the paint, it’s not Manburgian for sure, maybe from the Badlands or Manifold but it’s rare to find people like you in the palace. Anyone would think you were suspicious if you were running from one of the palace’s guards.”

  
Dream was a talker, George found this difficult by how out of focus he was. “I am no one.” Answered George, Dream’s gaze rested on his. His looks resonating with his emotions, disappointment, and mischief. 

  
“I beg to disagree.” Dream says, his arms crossing.

  
George turns. His breaths came fast from his lungs but he keeps himself quiet as he walked through the corridors to the hall he was told to wait in. He trembles underneath his mask. _What would he say if Dream were to have stopped him? What would we do if he pulled the mask?_

  
His worst nightmares occur when he hears the sound of light footsteps behind him. 

  
“Do not follow me.” George had his eyes closed in annoyance and a bit of fear. 

  
“You are a visitor, are you not?” Dream said, George practically hears him grinning.

  
“Yes,” George says, tiredly. 

  
“Then wouldn’t it be discourteous of me to not escort you back?” The question did not sit right with George. George looks up and sees Dream waiting to hear his reaction, despite his resolution not to engage. Those little words were not going to work on him. 

  
“You are half-naked, good sir.” The idea flushed him so much, took him so substantially that he feels his skin tone suddenly changed to the color of Blade’s hair. 

  
Dream’s green eyes gleamed. “According to ancient Greece, the practice of nudity in combat increasingly improves in the art of distraction depending on the size and shape of your—“

  
“ _Oh my god_.” George flings himself around. “Please! Just—leave me alone, will you?” 

  
“See, I—“ Dream is cut off by Eret suddenly emerging from a corner, his eyes widen at the sight of them both. Further unpleasantness was prevented by the approach of the said man, to whom Dream presented himself with an angelic bow despite his very bare physique.

  
“Lord Eret.” Dream stiffened after he recognized the councilor, he was dressed in new heavy dark clothing, with his councilor’s sash laying on his right shoulder. 

  
“Sir Dream,” said Eret, changing the look in his eyes into easier-going. “It’s very rare to see you at this state. To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

  
“I’m causing quite a stir, aren’t I?” Dream looks at himself smiling. “Dripping trails from behind.”

  
_‘That is not what is causing the stir,’_ George wanted to say. 

  
“You’ve acquainted Dream?” Eret looks at George. 

  
“I’ve met him.” 

  
“You don’t sound too pleased.” 

  
“I was chased by a man for no good reason and slammed into a muscle pig. I’m overjoyed.” 

  
George saw Dream’s eyes narrow. It was an expression that reminded him of the past whenever he would do or say something stupid and he was always there to cover the prince. 

  
Eret, taking a deep breath, only said. “To the spare room, we shall let you rest.” Before proceeding himself back to the hallways, displaying a kind of patience George doesn’t deserve. George does not follow him immediately, sparing a look at Dream one last time. 

  
“I’m sorry for talking to you that way.” 

  
Dream looked lost in thought. There was something he wanted to ask, very badly. But it almost seemed dangerous. George’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, dragged by the thoughts of reuniting with his childhood companion. He knew that the only thing standing in between them was the discovery of what Eret was trying to plan, to let the council know before anyone else. A right-minded man like George would never try to involve himself with selfish, emotionally-fueled treachery. 

  
George waits but nothing comes out of Dream’s mouth, so he turns around, cheeks flushed, and walks the other way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *repeatedly slams on the table* DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SELF CONTROL IT TOOK FOR IT NOT TO GET TOO STEAMY JFC. 
> 
> Also, I'm planning to write a more explicit version of DNF The Crown but it WON'T be in this fic. And if I'm in the mood, I might just write a modern based one.


End file.
